CheatLieSteal
by allpenninghufflepuff
Summary: No one can irritate Arthur like Eames, and no one can get under his skin like Eames either.  He rather like a louse.  Pre-movie. Slash E/A
1. Chapter 1

Inception

.Steal

"Cobb, why do we even need a forger?" Arthur checked his watch, affirming this man was late. The cobbled road outside the bookstore, littered with newspapers, half-smoked cigarettes, and all sorts of other loveliness, gave Arthur a distinct impression of the man they were meeting, and Arthur did not like it. Cobb grinned a weak grin. The young man was a good architect, but he was still impatient and headstrong, almost as bad as the impulsive student he'd been before Cobb corrupted him a few years back.

"Gaining the subject's trust is lot easier if you already have it. It can help us get information before alerting the projections." Cobb watched Arthur kick a rock as he grimaced. "Arthur, he'll show up. Anyway, I expected him to be late. It's like him." As though summoned, Cobb's new partner strode around a corner. Arthur glared at the unshaven man as a teacher stares at a rowdy pupil, despite the fact Arthur was clearly younger. The man ignored him.

"Arthur, this is Eames. Arthur is my partner," Eames looked the young man over, watching him bristle up at the gaze, mistaking it for a condescending gesture. Eames motioned the pair to follow him into the book store. The maze of shelves made Arthur uneasy, and he fingered his totem to anchor his presence in reality. Cobb and Eames began talking about the details of the job, Arthur scanned a nearby shelf, finding a collection of the work of M.C. Escher. Sliding the book out carefully, he flipped through the pages of impossible structures, evolving patterns, and optical illusions. He loved Escher, and had posters of the bizarre illustrations in his room at his parent's house before he moved out.

"Hey, Squirt," an unfamiliar voice behind him made Arthur jolt and spin around gracelessly, causing Eames to double over laughing. Arthur reddened from his collar to his hairline. He was not going to like Eames. At. All.

As Eames trained, however, it became clear to Arthur that to hate the forger would defy nature. Not that he was his new best friend forever, but a man like Eames couldn't be despised unless he wished to be. He pushed his buttons, but Arthur never really hated him. Cobb ranked him well at the training he would need to project the appearance of another in the dream. As the job drew closer, Cobb asked Arthur to dream share with him.

"I'd like to have a word with Arthur," he turned to Eames, "…in private. You don't mind, do you?"

"Not at all," Arthur watched Eames out of the corner of his eye. Arthur wasn't sure how he felt being vulnerable with Eames to watch him. Partially because the man had poured himself a drink at three in the afternoon, but mainly because he didn't quite trust him yet. He inserted the needle in his wrist anyway, hoping Cobb knew what he was doing.

Walking through the halls of an urban office, Arthur saw Cobb come from around a corner to join him.

"You ready for this job?" Cobb started the conversation.

"Yeah, of course. Are you worried?" Arthur fidgeted with the hem of his sleeves nervously.

"Not about you." Cobb smiled before segueing into his next question, "What do you think about Eames?"

"Personally, or professionally?"

"Any problems that will interfere with your performance? Cause you better tell me now so we can work it out."

"I'm just not sure we can trust someone who lies for a living, Cobb."

"Seems the thief is calling the forger black, eh?"

"Guess you're right, but let the record show that I do not like this."

"Do you not think he's up for the job?" Cobb stopped to lean against a mirrored wall. Arthur groaned.

"He can do it. He's just…" Arthur grimaced trying to find the right before settling on, "Obnoxious." He sighed, resting his head in his hand. "Do NOT tell him this, but he's probably the best, with his charisma."

"Artie, you're a peach." Arthur looked up slowly, petrified at Cobb's reflection. It wasn't Cobb's reflection at all.

"EAMES!"


	2. Chapter 2

Inception

.Steal

Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I do not make any money off this, and lord knows I wish I owned Arthur and Eames.

Warning: Sex is referred to. The slash is starting. Please note, this does not directly follow the last one.

Two men stared a largest painting in the gallery, one tilting his head, perhaps thinking the patron had hung the picture sideways. He muttered occasionally about one thing or another, all of which was ignored by the other man. Eventually, they moved on. No one really took notice of them. The older of the two spoke first.

"So, are you an incorrigible cheat?" Arthur nearly tripped at Eames's surprising question. "Or," he added, "Is there a story behind there a story behind the loaded die you keep in your pocket?"

"Uh, neither. It's just my totem. It seemed like a simple solution…" Arthur found the Forger laughing, though he had no clue what had set him off.

"You tell a lovely yarn, Arthur, in which we learn nothing about the subject." Eames shook his head, "I do believe you are the most boring person I've ever known. Including family."

"You had a boring childhood? Somehow, I can't imagine that." Arthur brushed the shoulder of an immaculately guest, who stared critically at him. He glanced at his watch.

"I had a boring family, darling. That is what made my childhood interesting." An old couple glared at the noisy man, who briefly considered making any of a number of rude gestures. "Bet you were even more boring growing up."

Arthur ignored him. "Where is Cobb?" Arthur was getting anxious. Eames was about to make snide comment when he noticed the mob around them. He grabbed Arthur's hand, and bolted, half dragging the Point Man. Arthur spotted a flight of stairs. "I've got an idea." He tugged Eames up the stair's first loop, the angry mob right behind them, when the Forger found himself inexplicably on the ground level, with the projections a story up.

"What was that?" Eames asked when they found shelter in a broom closet. He leaned, panting, against the door, the subconscious still pounding behind his back.

"Penrose Stairs. A closed loop of stairs in one direction." Arthur explained, shrugging. "Paradox." He looked around the confined space. "Why is there even a broom closet?"

"Ask Nash. God, I'm thankful though. I might have to give the poor lad a hug." Eames had no trouble with the small space, even the two men were forced nearly chest to chest. Arthur on the other hand, seemed quite uneasy. "Arthur, are you okay? You're not claustrophobic?"

"What? No, I just- I'm worried about Cobb and Nash." Arthur fidgeted nervously, and looked everywhere but Eames. "It's a little stuffy isn't it?"

"Tell me a story." Arthur gaped. "It'll keep your mind off it," Eames added.

"A story about what, exactly?"

"It can be about anything! That's not the point." Eames sighed before getting an idea, "Tell me how you lost your virginity."

"By having sex," Arthur deadpanned. Eames shot a glare at the younger.

"Oh, I had no idea. Thank you for clearing up that troubling issue."

"Were you expecting a play by play, Eames?"

"No, but I'd thought you'd tell a personal story using some personal details. How old you were, who was she, that sort of thing?" The two stood in silence for a time before Arthur spoke up.

"Fifteen. I was fifteen, and the girl was Hannah White. We … did it in the back of her brother's Jeep."

"How was it?"

"I was fifteen. How do you think?"

"Twenty."

"What?"

"I mean, I was twenty, the first time, and that's really all I remember about it." Arthur laughed quietly. "It's pretty pathetic, I know."

"I certainly expected something different from you."

"Do you often think about my sex life?" Eames smirked as the smile dropped off the Point Man's face and color rose to his cheeks. Eames checked his watch, as the hand gave the last few clicks.

Far away from a broom closet in an art gallery, Eames now found himself on a cold floor in a ware house. Cobb and Nash had already stirred, and Arthur followed up shortly. Only the middle-aged business man remained asleep, as Cobb and the hired driver lifted him into a taxi. "Did we get it?" Eames doubted it, because of the incident with the projections, but shockingly Nash nodded.

Arthur glared at Eames as he passed, claiming what happened would be, "Our secret," which only made Arthur scowl and flush.

"What secret?" Nash asked the Forger.

"Nash, does it not occur to you that if I told you, it wouldn't be a secret?"


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: If I spent ten years writing Inception, would I really be writing fanfiction? Thus, Christopher Nolan created these characters.

Warnings: This IS a slashy chapter. Nothing graphic, but still.

"What's that for?" Nash inquired, looking up from his layout plans to find the point man reading a card.

"Today's my birthday," Arthur said. A terse birthday wish and a hundred dollar bill from Cobb were the only real shows of festivity, but Arthur had never been one for ostentatious parties. He neatly folded the bill and slid it in his wallet.

"What happened to September?" Nash's eccentric question made Arthur pause. When it became clear the Architect was indeed serious, Arthur slowly responded.

"September was happening all last month, Nash," Arthur managed to keep his voice stable. The young man began to towards the warehouse's industrial doors before turning to face the Point Man.

"I didn't get you anything. Sorry." Arthur nodded uncomfortably as the other man left. He returned to his work, and became so absorbed in it that he didn't bother to look up when the doors opened and closed again.

"Cobb, I think we should give Nash a break. His grasp on reality is a little…fuzzy," Arthur scribbled notes on the mark in the margins of the newspapers.

"Three doesn't make for a very stable team. Though unlike you, pet, I enjoy a little uncertainty," the voice, soon matched to a familiar face, dripped with sarcasm.

"Eames, I thought you were…"

"Cobb? I could tell."

"I thought you'd left the job. Another day and Cobb was going to bring in a replacement." The Brit smirked as Arthur chastised him.

"I took a day off to fetch this for you, darling. Happy birthday." Eames placed a thick, leather-bound book on Arthur's desk. It seemed familiar, though the Point Man was unable to place it until he looked at the spine.

The Complied Works of M.C. Escher.

"This is the same book…before the job when we first…that was four years ago." Arthur felt his face heat up as he flipped through the pages.

"Arthur, I'm hurt. My job depends on noticing this sort of thing." Eames place a hand over his chest, though made no attempt of sincerity. He watched Arthur lightly trace the printed edges of the illustrations, and circle the desk to look in the proper direction.

"Thank you," Arthur looked up before returning his full interest in what Mr. Escher had to show.

"You'd think a professional dreamer would grow tired of the surreal. Particularly one as straight-laced as you." Eames leaned over Arthur's shoulder, one hand on the desk, the other resting on the back of the chair, his head practically in the crook of the seated man's neck.

Arthur first noticed the proximity off the pair when Eames had moved his hand from the back of the chair to Arthur's shoulder. The younger man tried to ignore the hot breath on his neck and willed his eyes to stay focused straight ahead, but he was certain Eames was already aware of the effect he had on the stoic Point Man.

"It's late," Eames stood up straight suddenly, "and it's your birthday. Everyone else is gone. Unless it offends your new friend," the Forger motioned to the book, "perhaps I can steal you away for the evening." Every logical reason to stay, every tactful denial, and even a few blatant blow offs flooded Arthur's mind, but when he looked up, his reply was certain.

"What did you have in mind?"

In a rather unimaginative mood, drinking seemed the best choice, though neither drank enough to cause much trouble. Eames, however, did manage to let a few poorly chosen words regarding a young lady slip, and they both decided it was time to leave after she poured her drink down the Forger's shirt. Eames held his shirt out, surveying the damage, before sighing.

"Why do you let me talk you into these things, darling?"

"Maybe I plan to seduce you," Arthur said before he could stop himself. Eames stopped short, and a lump grew in the younger man's throat.

"Perhaps you succeeded," Eames said just loud enough to hear. Part of Arthur was petrified. What did this mean, exactly? Were they in a relationship? Was this anything significant to Eames, or just a hedonistic fling? How much did Eames expect him to know, and how much did Eames himself know?

There was another part of him with a more obvious opinion on the course of things to come.

Arthur listened to the latter.


End file.
